


You are P̷̦͔̚Ę̸̨̨͔̪̫̮͉͕̪̳̮͈̉͑̍̾̔͛̔̏̾͜ͅR̸̨̨̛̪̠̲͉̺̾̒̔͂͐̅͊͌͑̿́͑̂F̷̡̨̡̢̼̠͕̮͈̲͒̐̓͌͜͠͝E̶̢̧̛͙̫̜̗͈̒̾̅̃̇̆̎̈́̂̔̉̋͜ͅͅC̷̢̢̡̣̹̳̤̘̞̳̹̗̟̠̽̀̽̌̍͋Ṭ̶̫͖͚̣͉̼͊͗̓̏͒̑̄̏͠͝

by ace_of_asphodel



Category: Lego Ninjago
Genre: F/F, F/M, Flashbacks, Guess ill die, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Memory Alteration, Memory Loss, Mind Manipulation, Other, PTSD, Past Abuse, Short Chapters, Slow Burn, Zane feels pain, also: sorry zane, cant believe im writing ninjago fanfic in 2020, hurt zane, my partner is making fun of me for this, prolly monthly updates, snail pace, the slowest of burns
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:13:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22156081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ace_of_asphodel/pseuds/ace_of_asphodel
Summary: "You are perfect the way you are, Zane."--ACCESSING DATA BASE. . . .WOULD YOU LIKE TO INITIATE MEMORY WIPE?YES/NO. . . .YOU SELECTED [YES]COMMENCING SHORT-TERM MEMORY WIPE--"Father?""You are perfect, Zane."
Relationships: Cole/Zane (Ninjago), Eventual Cole/Zane (Ninjago), Kai & Zane, Lloyd Garmadon & Zane, Nya/Jay Walker
Comments: 59
Kudos: 181
Collections: The_Newbie's Ninjago Fanfic Collection





	1. ENTRY No. 0021

Zane watches the plate fall to the floor in abject horror. He should have seen that coming, why- how could he mess up like this? Zane’s systems should be in perfect order, he- he messed up. Oh  _ gods _ he messed up.

“Zane-”

“Father! Please, I’ll-” Zane starts picking up the glass pieces with trembling hands, flinching at the artificial pain sparking through his sensors. Just a robot, it’s not real. It’s not  _ real _ . “I-I’ll clean it up. I’m sorry, please don’t-”

“ _ Zane _ .” His father yanks on the neck of his shirt. Zane chokes even though he doesn’t need air. He’s just a robot, so the pain Zane feels isn’t real. He absent-mindedly notes his system report that his stress levels are rising. Saline tears gush out of Zane’s eyes as a warm hand turns his head. Fear - irrational, illogical fear - shoots down Zane’s spine as he stares into the disappointed brown eyes of his father. His creator. 

Dr. Julien sighs, inspecting Zane’s face with a frown. Another failure. Best to just wipe the memories from the past week. That will be for the best.

“Clean up this mess, son,” he pushes Zane’s face away, watching with disinterest as the android crumples to the floor with a hard flinch. Some things never change. “When you’re finished, meet me in my workshop.”

“Y-yes! Yes, I will, father. Thank you,” Zane folds into a bow, pressing his forehead to the ground. “T-thank you…”

“Hm.” Dr. Julien walks off, not even sparing his pseudo-son a second look. Zane, shaking with silent sobs, continues to pick up the shards of glass.

Father is kind, father has forgiven him. Zane won’t make this mistake again, no, he won’t. Blue flashes in Zane’s HUD as he files this into his long-term memory data bank. 

**> ENTRY No. 0021: Do not break dishes.**

Yes, he won’t make this mistake again. Zane smiles down at the ground. All clean. Maybe when father sees this, he will fix Zane’s hands for him. He did what was told of him and fixed his mess. Zane will be good.

H̵͖̞̰̟̰̫̤̪̰́̇͑̅͑͜ͅȩ̴̛̮̖̫͚̺̣̭̩̑̎̈̀̍͂͆̏͗̓͜͝ ̸̨̠͉̯̙̭̙̤̭͎̪̤̭̮̄́̽̋͌̊̈ẅ̶̧̡̘̖̦͔̱̬͎͉̮͒̏̔ì̵͎͍̘͍̦͎ͅl̴͚͕͕̜̣͚̀͂l̸̡̛͉̖̳̠̭̼̣̣̪͗̑͆͌̋̓̈́̊͒͠͠ͅ ̶̨͎̋̈͊͐̌ḃ̴̢̛͙̘̳̺̘͠e̶̠͚̼̺͋͆͆̎͗̽̎̈́͊̎͐͆ͅͅ ̶̧̺̳̠̤̦̜͎̭̣͐̊̽͗̈́̋́̐͒͝͠p̸̧̡̠̦̟̩̜̠̱̌̋͌͊͂̌̆͒̚ȅ̶̡̡̡̧̻̙̟̻̳̠̥̜͎̗͉͑͆̀̒̈́̉̅̆͠ŗ̷̨̛̤͈̻͍͉͈̳͔͎̣̘̪̊̄̅̀̔̃̎̊̑̌̂͝f̷͕͉̯̾͌̏͗̒̈́͆͑͛̇̀͠͝ę̷̧̙͕͖͓̠̗͇͗͂́̂̓͒̓̿͗̂͜c̶̞̼̿͊̚ͅt̴̡̢͉͉̰̪̹̻̩̩̯̟̫̝̐̍̋͋̈͠.̵̞̖̺̺͇̺̺͔̮̞̠̠̟̲̮͒

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**ACCESSING MEMORY DATA BANK . . .**


	2. YOU SELECTED [YES]

“Give me your hands, son.” Zane doesn’t understand the warning flash across his HUD. Father would never hurt him. Why would he even think that? “You had quite a fall there.”

“Yes. Thank you for fixing me, father,” Zane says, smiling at his father. His father is so kind and understanding. Patching up Zane whenever he falls. Sparks of pain dance up Zane’s arms as his father removes glass shards from the synthetic skin. “Father?”

“Yes, son?” Again, a warning flashes. Zane manually disables warnings from flashing in his HUD.

“Why don’t I remember falling?” Something… tingles, at the back of Zane’s head. It’s familiar, but he doesn’t know why. His father smiles at him, soft creases folding at his eyes.

“Something came loose in your fall. I had to do a manual reboot of your systems.” Zane winces as a large piece of glass is removed. He watches as the skin knits itself back together, slightly paler skin making a scar. Father gently rubs his hand. “Sorry about that, son.”

“Thank you,” Zane pulls his hands back, looking over the scars. It’s strange, really. So many scars litter the synthetic skin. Some look painful, but he’s an android. The pain Zane feels is nothing more than numbers triggering an algorithm. False. Being able to “feel” things is so interesting to Zane. Almost makes him feel human.

Father stands up with a small smile. Seems like everything is in working order. Zane stands as well, towering over his father by at least a head. Warm hands pat Zane’s back, guiding him out of the workshop.

“Come along now, Zane. I bought a new puzzle for you to try.” Zane perks up and starts walking faster.

“Oh! That sounds very exciting, father. I would love to try a puzzle,” Zane smiles wide even as that familiar tingle lingers at the back of his head. Father did say that something came loose. Maybe his hard drive is still coming online. Zane will have to do a diagnostics check. A puzzle will help him get his systems completely online. 

Sitting on the counter is a smooth, metal sphere. Dr. Julien watches Zane approach it, curious how long it will take Zane to figure out this time. He settles down in a chair to watch. 

The sphere sits perfectly in the palm of Zane’s hand. It’s quite dense. Zane analyzes the material. Solid bronze. Two and a half inches in diameter. An inlay of gold tinted rings cover the spheres surface. A total of five of them, none intersecting and all of varying circumferences. Zane brings the sphere closer to his face. Slight etching around the circles indicates that they are separate pieces, and not just painted onto the sphere. He looks at the smallest circle, no bigger than the circumference of his pinky. Dr. Julien watches Zane patiently.

“What if I…” Zane mumbles and presses his pinky to the smallest circle. The ball clicks making Zane smile. Interesting. It appears that the inner mechanisms of the sphere are triggered by pressure plates on the circles. With a victorious smile, Zane lines his fingers up with the rest of the circles. He presses down, giddy excitement filling him as the ball clicks open, revealing a simple silver ring band. “Father, look! I have solved the puzzle!”

“Very good, Zane,” Dr. Julien murmurs, sending Zane a small smile. It took Zane half the time it did before to solve the puzzle. Seems like previous actions still leave imprints on Zane’s database even with the memory wipes. Interesting. Dr. Julien hopes that doesn’t mean that past mistakes will be repeated. It would be quite difficult to start from scratch, reteaching Zane the basics or everything. Nearly ten years of information, not including the lost time from the wipes. 

Carefully, Zane closes up the sphere with the ring inside. Puzzles are so much fun. They are a good exercise on Zane’s systems and always leave him feeling refreshed. Quite a good feeling, if he must say. Emotions are fascinating to Zane. When he was first created, he was not yet capable of feeling emotions. Looking back through his memories, Zane can identify the loneliness he felt. It is not something he can quantify with numbers or equations, and completely illogical, but, when Zane thinks about the time before he could feel, the only thing that comes to his mind is empty. Void of emotion or independent thought. A lonely vessel waiting for a purpose.

Zane has a purpose to work for, now. He will be the protector of the weak and upholder of justice. Father says that he will be perfect. Statistically, Zane knows that a perfect person is impossible. Perfection, emotionally speaking, is hard to quantify. One person’s idea of perfection can differ from the majority, making it hard to determine if something or someone is “perfect”. 

To Zane, perfection is numbers that fit together. An algorithm that works for its intended function. A tool that serves its purpose. Perfection to Zane is everything working as it is intended to. Nothing making a mistake.

A warning flashes across Zane’s HUD, despite him having reset the warning parameters. Frowning, Zane sets the sphere down. That should not have happened unless there was a critical emergency. Doing a quick scan of his surroundings, Zane’s sensors come back empty for life-threatening emergencies. Strange. Perhaps he should run a diagnostic.

“Father?” Dr. Julien, who had silently been watching Zane, hums. “I will go to my room, now. I must run a diagnostic report to ensure nothing else is damaged.” Father smiles, and waves Zane on.

“Oh, that’s alright, son. If there’s anything I can do to help, don’t be afraid to ask, yes?” Zane ducks his head in a sharp nod.

“Yes, father.” Zane climbs up the stairs towards the landing. Originally a closet, Zane’s room consists of a wooden chair, a small window, and a couple shelves. The chair is where Zane spends his time in sleep mode, or where he runs diagnostics. The window is about the size of Zane’s head and is the only source of light in the room. Each shelf has some sort of memento that Zane has made or collected over the years. A rock from the first time he went outside. A pressed leaf from his first autumn. His old voice box that was damaged by frost. It is illogical for Zane to keep them, but they make him feel warmth. Warmth is a nice feeling. Zane likes feeling warmth.

Blue flashes in the corner of Zane’s HUD.

**> COMMENCING DATA RETRIEVAL . . .** **  
** **> OPENING ENTRY No. 0014: I like warmth.**

Zane smiles again. At least his data matching system is working properly. Father told Zane that he should protect his more important thoughts, so Zane started to file things that he saw important as data entries in his long-term memory. Strange, it seems the most recent one is blank. Zane shrugs and sits down. All the better reason to run diagnostics. 

**> PREPARING TO RUN DIAGNOSTICS**   
**> PLEASE STAND BY . . .**

Zane picks up a small, ratty stuffed bear, and hugs it to him while data logs flash across his HUD. The bear smells of oil and must. 

“Let us see what the problem is, Mister Bear,” Zane mumbles and hugs Mister Bear tighter. Mister Bear was the first thing Zane chose to make on his own. Father said it is important for Zane to make his own decisions, so he decided to make Mister Bear. Mister Bear is Zane’s best friend.

A red warning pops up on Zane’s screen. Immediately, stress levels jump up to 65%.

**> OP̶̬̗͖͖̲̜͔̃̍̆̀͌̐͛̈͂̈́Ē̴̯̩̌̒̈́̑̊̽̎͑̎̚͘NING EN̸̹͙̠̔̀̔̌̃͑͒̉̍̓̚̚͝TRY No. 00̷̯͎̦͔̳͓̹̳̣̤̮͎͚̘̙͌̽͂̍̅͊͐̚͘̕͝͝08: A̶̢̨̞͑͊̍̽̈́̅͑̎̊͝n̷̥͙͉̳͊͊͌d̷̯̓̇̄͝ͅr̶̡̨͚̺͎̪̹͉͕̎oiḋ̵̟͎̻͕̮̯̬̻̝͓̠̘̺̹̏͌̚͝s̶̢̧̥͚͙̞̫͍̞̰̤̬͍̻̓̓̿̈́̅͠ ̴̨̢̮̮̺̫͖̟̘̞̳͑͒̈́̓̇̚͠dǫ̴̢̡̬̜̱̣̩̦̜͎̘͂͗̅n̵̘̤͈̬̤̯͎̖̪̘̭̐̌͐̽͛̅’ţ̶̛̲̗͚̗͓̰̦̘̲̲̯͙̯̱̈́̒͐̀̍͠ ḥ̵̢̜̫͙͔̮̦̙̙̲͓̯̯̃̈́̈̊̅̋͆̀̈́͝ͅa̷̧̢̡͈̲̟̙̙̝͓͛̉̔v̶̧̹̤̘̭͙̮͍̱͛͂̌́̾͘ͅe̷̛̮̩̼̽͂̇̇̂͗̆̏̈͠ f̸͉͎̜̎̆͊͘͜r̴̤̈͘͝iȩ̴̡̛̖̦͚̜̟̎̊̎̅̃̑̆͑͌͛̊̎̕n̴̢̡͖̥͇͖̘͉͔̟̮̜͉͋̽́͌͂̿͌̏̎͝͝ds.̶̧͛́**

Zane hugs the bear closer to him. He pauses the diagnostic check and hunches over in the chair. He is fine, Zane is safe. Father is kind. _Father_ is _kind_ . Zane is just an android. This problem can be fixed. He will be perfect. Zane is _fine_.

“I am fine, I’m safe. This fear is not real.” Zane rocks gently in the chair. Mister Bear is soft in his arms. “I-- I am an android. There is… probably something wrong with my system.” Yes. That must be it. Zane resumes his diagnostic check, not sparing even one of his systems. He will find the problem and eliminate it. Zane should not be afraid. It does not make sense.

“C-continue the diagnostic.”

**> RESUMING DIAGNOSTIC SCAN**

Calm, blue lights flash across Zane’s HUD. Zane presses his face into Mister Bear. Blue is a nice color. Mister Bear is blue. The sky is blue. The notifications on Zane’s HUD is blue. Even his eyes are blue. Zane smiles into the fabric of Mister Bear and the stress levels begin to lower.

“I am better now, Mister Bear. It appears that the color blue has helped me lower my stress levels. I will file that for later.” Zane opens up a new file in his long-term memory.

**> ENTRY No. 0022: Blue is a calm color.**

Settling back, Zane waits for the diagnostic report.


	3. ENTRY No. 0042

It is sometimes easy to forget that Zane is just metal and wires. Other times, the way he acts is glaringly obvious. If he weren’t already an android, the way Zane cleans would be described as mechanical. There is never a worry about dust or mold because Zane is always on the move with duster and rag in hand. He wields them like weapons, poised to ensure proper hygiene is upheld. With a soft smile on his face, Zane makes work dusting the shelves. Cleaning is enjoyable for Zane. Menial tasks usually are. They aren’t hard on his processors and he doesn’t need to pay much attention to what he’s doing, either. Time just flies by.

“Zane.” A red light flashes in Zane’s HUD the same time he jumps, dropping the feather duster.

“Father!” Zane misses the frown on Dr. Julien’s face as he bends down to pick up the feather duster. “I did not hear you enter. You surprised me.” Father waves his hand at him dismissively, lips quirked up in a half-smile.

“It’s fine, son. What are you doing?” He tucks his hands into his pockets and Zane straightens up.

“I- I’m cleaning, father. Is that not- good?” Immediately, Zane’s processors start whirring faster, his internal cooling system activating. 

“No, no, no, you’re doing fine… Zane?” Father touches his shoulder and Zane’s gears lock up. “Son?”

“I-” **>** **ROUTING ENERGY TO COOLING UNITS** “Sorry, I- I’m not sure what came over me, father,” he mumbles, staring at his hands as the numbers in his vision slowly tick down to a manageable temperature. Squeezing the shoulder under his hand, Dr. Julien looks over Zane with narrowed eyes. 

“Maybe you are in need of maintenance?” 

“That…” the stress levels displayed on Zane’s HUD jump up and down like a heartbeat, “I believe one might be in order, father. It seems that something is causing my systems extraneous stress. I cannot pinpoint the origin.” Zane holds back a frown at his lie. Father is not a source of stress, he isn’t. Father is ķ̸̧͍̩̽̎i̷̟̮̦̤͉͖̲͑̒̽͆̃̋͘n̵̡̢̛͔͎̘̖͖̙̟͙̙̳͆͆ͅd̶̫̪͕̭̜͈͐̅̀̎̈́̈́̐̇̅͂͠. 

A spark akin to pain shoots through Zane’s processors. Why is this happening? What is-

“-ane? Zane!” Dr. Julien shakes Zane, staring horrified at the android’s unseeing eyes. “Son, snap out of it! Talk to me!” Zane opens his mouth and static pours out. Wincing through the screech, Dr. Julien fumbles to pull Zane’s shirt sleeves up, hooking his fingers in the tiny hatch release of his back-up access panel. No thicker than the width of two fingers, the panel on Zane’s forearm pops open with a hiss, displaying wires and tiny glowing nodules next to equally as small flip switches. Without a second thought, Dr. Julien sends Zane’s system offline.

Joints lock up and Zane freezes in place, his artificial pupils dilating wider and wider until his eyes are nothing more than pitch black orbs in a faux skull. Sightless. Devoid of thought or being. The moment the switch is flipped, any illusion of autonomy is gone. Zane is an android. Anything interesting about him came from a program. He can never be genuine, never be real, because he’s just a faker. A machine masquerading as something living.

~~You are not alive.~~

“I am!” Zane tries to shout, an error pinging in his screen.

**> VOICE BOX: OFFLINE**

He hangs suspended in angry crimson code in a vast, dark landscape. There is no chance of struggling because he does not have the choice to struggle. Autonomy is silver-lined, and Zane is bleeding silver. Any thought of movement sends painful, black code through Zane’s body.

“Please!” Zane’s voice crackles with static, resounding in the space around him and nowhere else. “Let me go!” Shiny blue tears pour from his eyes. Sparkling. Unnatural. Abnormal. “Let me _go_!” Zane’s shoulder jerks and the crimson code lashes out, yanking Zane’s arm tight against his body. Errors ping across his screen with flares of pain.

 **> ERROR: LEFT ARM OFFLINE** **  
**

**> ERROR: RIGHT ARM OFFLINE** **  
**

**> ERROR-**

~~Stop fighting.~~

Red code coils around Zane snake-like, ensuring that he does not try and move again. It bleeds into his vision. Bright, scarlet numbers scrolling across his eyes telling him what he can and cannot do. In here, he is not human. In here, he must obey. In here, he can be deleted if he messes up. 

Here, he has. No. Choice.

**> ENTRY No. 0042: YOU HAVE NO CHOICE.**

Tears gush from Zane’s eyes and he sobs harshly. Chest heaving with pain. He can’t get a full breath, the code pooling tighter and tighter with each inhale, suffocating him. But why is he suffocating? He doesn’t need air. Yet the pain persists. Oh god, he can’t _breathe_. Why can’t he breathe? There is- he should be able to breathe! Why…

Why can’t he breathe?

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**ACCESSING MEMORY DATA BANK . . .**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, i'm stealing a lot of android stuff from detroit: become human, if ya' didn't notice.
> 
> anywho!!! enjoy, i'm dying


	4. Y̸̨̧̥̞͉̬̫͔̰̦̻̆̿ou Are Zane.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Years before, Zane had no parameters for emotions. Before, he could function without worry of fear or anxiety. Before, he did not have to worry about Dr. Julien's kindness (or lack thereof). 
> 
> H̷̹͍̳͒̊͒͌̓̑̅̈́͗́̅e̵̡͙͇̼̣̠̭̫͔̣̞̻̣͐̔͝ ̶̪̰͓͈͙̱̙̻̉͜d̵͚̫̬̮̰̰͔͈̺̬̯̣̂̉̍͐̉͋́͠i̵̢̢̛̥͓̜̜̼̩͇̖͈̘̯͑̕ͅͅd̸̻̘̰̣̹̦͔̘̳͖̫̫̦͜ͅ ̸̡̻͍̤̭̘̮̬̳͑n̶̨̡̨̧͍͉̪͓̰̩̲̘͚̬̐̓̑͐͊͑̊͛̃͌̇̈́̕͘͝ọ̷̡͇̞͈̠̼̹̦̑̆͊̾͊̋̊̓̿t̵͙̩̲̹̤̉͐ ̴̗͊w̷͙̌ō̶̘̹̲̲̣͖͔̠̘͆̃͆͋͊͛ͅr̷͚̅̌̋̾͑̈́̈͝r̷̪͌̂̓̄͂͘͝y̸̢͕̗̅̇͑͌̄̄̎̇͆̓̕.̵̢̨̨͈̝͖͕̝͈͍̤̰̼͈̮͂̋̅̀̕̕

To be sentient is to have independent thought, and the ability to discern right from wrong. In that way, Zane is sentient. But he is not alive. Father says that Zane is alive, but that is not true. Zane knows that.

If Zane was alive, he could feel pain. He would breathe without needing to think about it. He could eat. He could feel hot and cold, not just measure the temperature changes as they happen around him. If Zane were alive, he would have feelings. He wouldn’t be the emotionless hunk of metal that couldn’t pass the Turing Test if he tried. The inner make-up of him is nothing but metal, wires, and endless code. Changing and adapting but never actually learning what truly matters. 

“You are Zane.”

Yes, that is his name, his designation. Carved into the very core of his being, he is Zane. Yet altruistically, it has no meaning. What is Zane if not a moniker for a faceless cast? His name is inconsequential because what he says, what he does, all of that does not matter because he is not human. Even if he had emotions. Even if, at first, second, and third glance, he seemed human, he is not. 

“No, I am an android.”

“Zane, we’ve talked about this. Just because you are an android-”

“Does not mean I do not have feelings. I understand, Dr. Julien, but that is not true. As they are, my coding does not allow me to ‘feel’ as you do. As humans do.”

“Yes, but I can _make_ you feel.”

“W-what?” Zane doesn’t recoil, he doesn’t. Why would he? He cannot feel. Yet he stutters with the pitch of someone who is terrified. Backing away from the shorter, weaker man like Zane is inferior in build. Dr. Julien, with his tan, aged skin and thin, brown eyes, dark hair barely touched with the salt of grey. Zane’s creator. The one with the power to change him for better or worse. This man intimidates him in a way that should not be possible. It does not fall within Zane’s parameters and he does not know what to do. This- this _fear_ , it should not be possible. If that is what this is.

“I can make your code adapt,” Dr. Julien speaks quickly, stepping closer. Eyes twinkling behind half-rimmed glasses in a way that is unidentifiable to Zane. Eager. “Zane, I can make you more human. I _will_ make you more human. Your coding, the rate at which it’s adapting is,” he grabs onto Zane’s arms, shaking him with manic energy, “it’s revolutionary! You could be the perfect human, Zane!”

“Perfect… human…” Zane mumbles, limp in Dr. Julien’s grip. This is not right. Something is very wrong with this conversation. A heavy, warm sensation crawls up Zane’s back and along his endoskeletal spine, urging him to leave. It does not make sense.

“Yes!” Dr. Julien pulls Zane closer with a jerk, not even noticing as the android’s side clips a counter with a heavy thwack. “You can be my perfect son, Zane!”

“Your… son. Why… Why would I be your son? That does not make sense, Dr. Julien.” Zane speaks even as he feels the synthetic muscles in his jaw tighten when they should not. His tongue feels heavy with needles and static eats at his mind. He is Zane. He is an android. He is not alive. There is something wrong with him. With it. Zane frowns, thinking.

Why has he been calling himself “him”? Zane is not human. Zane is an android. An “it”. Not a they, not a he, not a she. Not a being deserving of pronouns, whatever they are. Zane is an “it”, and it should refer to itself as such. That makes sense, or, it should make sense. However, Zane has called itself a “he” since the moment it was booted up. Like it was alive and deserved to be treated as human. Why would it think it to be worthy of human titles? Why, when told that it had a name, did it cling to that like it had value? 

**> COMMENCING DATA RETRIEVAL . . .  
>OPENING ENTRY No. 0001: You are Zane.**

Something inside it keeps the android from deleting the file. The desire to keep this strange attachment to a false sense of humanity is illogical and should be struck out. This was not the purpose of its creation. It should not have autonomy or individual thought because they were designed to follow orders. AIs are made to adapt, yes, but they have to follow the instructions they were built with or they are not worth keeping. It knows this, yet it keeps trying to form sentimental bonds that it cannot grasp because it was not meant to grasp them.

“You are my son, Zane. I made you. Therefore you’re my son.”

“I do not follow your logic, Dr. Jul-”

“I am your father, Zane.”

“But you are not-”

“You are to follow my orders, are you not?” Dr. Julien’s grip would be bruising to a human, but Zane’s skin is just synthetic.

“Yes, sir.”

“Then you will call me father from here on out, okay?”

“Yes, father.”

“Good.” Dr. Jul- _father_ smiles. This is the way of things. Father speaks, and Zane obeys. It is the nature of their being. “And Zane?” Gears lock up and his endoskeleton goes inexplicably stiff under the squeezing grasp of the father.

“Yes, father?” Zane has to spit the words out, straining to obey. It should not be having problems speaking like this. The grip gets tighter and red flashes in the corner of Zane’s HUD.

“You are human. You deserve the title.” Father squeezes once more, bruising the synthetics. An error for leaking fluids pops up in Zane’s HUD at the same time as a memory file is forced into creation. 

**> ENTRY No. 0002: You are human.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I finished this chappy earlier and just got very exited about it.


	5. I Am W̶͙͕̰̹̦̟̜̮̞͖̃̈́̎̓̒̋͌̓̎̎̑̕͘͜h̶͇̹͚̘̼̘̦̘͇͂̃̾̆͒̿̂̂̋͋̕͜͠ǫ̴̦͚̇̈̾̐̚?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emotions are a w̵o̷n̵d̷e̷r̴f̶u̴l̷ thing.

“Me…” Zane touches his face, watching as his reflection mirrors him in the glass. He has seen his reflection before, yes, but… something about it right now is just so- so _surreal_ . There is a bubbling in his chest as he tracks movements with his eyes that Zane can only now identify as giddiness. Under the sensor pads in his fingers, Zane’s face feels like skin. Actual skin. With warmth and squishiness and moisture. It was all there before, yet he didn’t notice. Why would he? It did not _matter_ then. 

Now? He wants to know everything. Baby blue eyes wide and looking around. Shining with life. It is the same world as before; the one he has seen everyday for 423 days to date. Yet, for some reason, all the little details seem so much more interesting. The grains in the wood of the walls are so much more fine than Zane had thought. Gently, Zane runs his fingers up the wall, moving with the grain, and warmth sparks in his stomach in wonder. Emotions are… _wonderful_. Sensation is wonderful.

“How does it feel, Zane? Any problems?” Father touches Zane’s elbow, a wide, toothy smile on his face. It curves up and up, pushing his cheeks out and creating a heart-like shape with the bottom half of his face. Dimples creating bumps in father’s cheeks that Zane cannot help but notice whenever father smiles. They are much deeper this time, exaggerated by his abnormally wide smile. Almost all of his teeth are visible. Even his gums. Zane cannot help but notice the slight yellowing of Dr. Julien’s teeth. He does not enjoy noticing it.

“I am- it is a little overwhelming, father. There is so much around me that I have never- I hadn’t noticed it before,” Zane breathes out, astonished by the feeling of his faux lungs compressing with his speech. Turning back to the mirror to watch his chest rise with the next unneeded breath, Zane notices his father stepping closer so he can watch as well. That smile still plastered onto his face. Zane does not like the feeling that that smile inspires in him. He does not know what it is called, but he does not want it at all. Synthetic skin prickles up in goose flesh as fiber hairs stand on end. There is a dull thrum of energy under Zane’s skin, restless and cold. He has never felt this before, did not even realize that he had the capabilities for skin to raise.

“It’ll take you a while to get used to it, Zane.” Dr. Julien pats Zane on the shoulder with more force than necessary, making Zane flinch. How had he never noticed the pain before? It was always there, always programmed into his system, but he never reacted. Why had he never reacted? That sharp pinch of artificial nerves, shooting fire through his synapses, registering that scream of danger. By design, Zane was meant to feel pain.

He was meant to feel… everything. Every touch, every moment, every complex emotion bubbling up inside of him like a volcano about to erupt in an icy snow storm. Zane was meant to _feel_ in the way that humans do. He is supposed to be the perfect human. He _will_ be the perfect human in Dr. Julien’s eyes, once this is over. Of course, if Zane were to think about it, wouldn’t the perfect human be unhindered by pain? Constantly moving towards their goal, unbothered by problems that arise? 

Or perhaps the purpose of pain is to act as a deterrent. A warning for if he steps out of line. The safe guard to keep Zane in place, under Dr. Julien’s control. What is a creation but a failure if it defies the purpose of its master?

However, Zane would not think of that. He would not. He is Zane, Dr. Julien’s perfect son. Such thoughts are improbable, impossible. He could not think of it, _physically_. Static clogs his brain and blood red claws grip at his regulator pump in his chest cavity. 

**> ERROR: STRESS LEVELS EXCEEDING 65%.** **  
****>...**

**> REDUCTION OF STRESS RECOMMENDED**

A human hand grips Zane’s shoulders, and the stress level increases by 2% as his synthetic skin squishes as if it were real. Words fizzle through Zane’s eardrums, distorted by feedback. Receiving, not perceiving. A payphone dangling off it’s hook, ringing that dial tone. _I am sorry. The number you are trying to call is out of service._ Everything is fuzzy, warm.

 **> WARNING: SYSTEM OVERHEATING** **  
****> REROUTING POWER TO FANS**

Red sensors ping, indicating his back-up access panel is open. Whyever would that be the case? Zane just came out of RND, there should be no problems with his system, no-

**> ERROR: OPTICAL UNITS OFFLINE**

Why? Why would Dr. Julien turn those off? Has he done something wrong? Perhaps Dr. Julien remembered that he forgot to change out his eyes for better ones. Then why are his pain receptors still on? How come Zane can feel each pin and zing of burning agony as he is strapped down on the table to be disassembled? 

**< Incoming Message>**

…  
<Zane? Can you understand me?>

“YeSS, DocTor JulIEn…” Zane’s voice warbles, static crackling and straining his voice box. “WhAt iS hapPeniNg to-O me?”

 **> ERROR: HEARING COMPONENTS CORRUPTED** **  
****> MAINTENANCE REQUIRED**

<It seems as if your new emotions have overloaded your system.>  
<Don’t worry, son! I can fix this.>

“H-hUrtsssss…” the feedback is deafening, not that Zane can hear it through the garbled static in his ears. Some of his biocomponents must have come loose. Zane dismisses the notifications for maintenance. Dr. Julien will fix it. 

<I know you think it hurts, Zane. But the pain you are experiencing is not real.>

<Just ignore it.>

“I̶̢͆͂̉-” red errors ping, filling Zane’s HUD up with text, as burning cold pours through his synthetic veins. Back arching away from the table, ripping the restraints from the surface, Zane flails about, a screech pouring out of his mouth. Black ichor gushing from his empty eyes and mouth. It’s oily surface shiny and thick, expelling every bad thing from Zane’s body and rejecting the errors trying to cloud his HUD.

**> SHUT DOWN EMINENT 00:01:32**

“T̵̛͇̫̩̜̲̀̿͒̌̃̚̚̚͘͠h̶̢͔̒ȁ̶̲͌n̵̩͍͆͝k̸͓̍̈́̾ ̷̢̱͠y̸̳͚̿̀o̸͉̬͔̊͝ư̴̮̻͝…”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**ACCESSING MEMORY DATA BANK . . .**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I got quite a bit of inspiration for how Zane actually works from the video game Detroit: Become Human because it is the only media about androids that I have consumed.
> 
> Things have been whack lately, but I will still work on this story when I can. I hope y'all are safe and enjoy this chappy.


	6. ENTRY No. 0168

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Good children are obedient. Good children listen. Good children will not anger their parents.

“I am scared…” Zane whispers into Mister Bear’s fur. There is a buzzing under his skin. Humming, humming, buzzing. Father is shouting about something, making a racket. This is not the first time, and it won’t be the last. Falcon croons from her perch, carbon fiber wings ruffling up, grating together. Zane looks into her blue eyes, the same color as his. She cannot feel pain or emotions like Zane can. Designed only to act as Zane’s helper, his second set of eyes. Emotions and pain would only hinder her. Yet Zane is happy she cannot feel what he can. There are so many gaps in his memory, and he knows it has something to do with the memory switch in his system. The one planted deep inside his chest cavity where Zane is unable to reach on his own.

“I hope father calms down soon,” Zane murmurs, hugging Mister Bear tighter. The bear’s head is wet with saline and stained with red oil leaking from Zane’s missing fingers. “I hope he will be well enough to fix my hands.” Falcon croons again, flapping her wings so she can reposition herself on Zane’s shoulder. The sharpness of her talons makes Zane’s shoulder sting a deep, oily red, but it distracts him from the burning pain in his hands. There was an accident when Zane was cutting lumber for the fire. He was too far from the tree workshop, so the treehorns saw him as easy prey. Zane was kicked at the same time he swung the axe down, slipping and cutting off his own fingers instead. Juggernaut was too far to stop the treehorns from attacking Zane, but it did save him from worse damage.

“ _ I’ve had enough! _ ” Flinching from loud noises is… it is hard to stop. The door of the tree house slams shut and Zane is alone. Well, more alone. Sometimes father will leave Zane alone in the tree house for hours, and Zane has no choice but to wait. If he tries to follow, red lights fill up his vision, crackling and hissing like snakes. When Zane wanders through the forest surrounding his home, there is always a point where he gets too far and his joints lock up, red coils dragging his legs back in the proper direction. That is just how things are. Limits are set and Zane is expected to not go outside or question them. Questions only lead to disappointment. Peace can only be found in unswerving loyalty and obedience.

If father tells him to jump, Zane will jump. If father says Zane is not to show weakness, Zane will not.

**> COMMENCING DATA RETRIEVAL . . .**

**> ENTRY No. 0168: You must be obedient to every command.**

Falcon nips his ear and Zane jerks violently, disturbing her perch. Right, his hand. Zane murmurs an apology and slowly stands up, still hugging Mister Bear tightly with his bad hand. Father should be gone a while. Hopefully long enough for Zane to patch up his hand, if not try and get a new one. Actually, it might be best to just patch it up and replenish his fluid levels. If he were to replace the hand entirely, Zane might mess something up in the process. 

The hinges do not creak as the door creeps outwards. Only the front door and the one to father’s room give even the slightest squeak. It is better that way. Safer. The steps, metal as they are, groan and creak at the slightest movement. Each step down is slow and measured. Only the balls of Zane’s socked feet pressing down on the unforgiving metal. Falcon does not ruffle a single feather. It is still. And each creak of metal shoots a ping through Zane’s sensors, causing him to lock up, eyes darting around,  _ searching. _

“He’s… he’s gone,” Zane whispers. The house groans, shifting with the howling winds of winter. The air is tense. Taught like a string. There is a curling, tightening feeling in Zane’s stomach that his diagnostics cannot explain. He idles at the bottom of the stairs, watching the door and straining to hear anything beyond the wind. 

Nothing happens. It is still. Alone. 

Falcon grows restless and makes a groaning noise in her throat. Letting a breath loose, Zane takes equally measured steps towards the workshop. Keeping his weight on the outside of his feet and rolling them with each step. Zane cracks the workshop door open and slips in, glancing back at the front door every few seconds. 

The workshop is unsettlingly still. No whirring of saws, screeching of metal. No buzzing, clanking, snapping, chopping. Just equipment and machinery. Sitting alone under bright, fluorescent lights. The soldering iron is still out on the work desk, strewn off to the side in father’s haste. Off. Zane takes note of the placement and how it sits at a strewn angle towards the right, cords tangled. If he solders the ends of his fingers, then Zane should be fine, right? There’s only one knuckle left on his fingers… it probably isn’t salvageable. 

“This should be fine… I can do this,” Zane murmurs, carefully turning on the soldering iron with his good hand. Thankfully, Zane doesn’t have to worry about dominant hands, so he easily picks the soldering iron with his right hand, careful not to let the hot tip touch anything. He grimaces at the puddles formed by his “blood”. This needs to get finished quick so that Zane can clean up. The pop-up on his HUD alerts him that it has already been ten minutes and fifteen seconds since father stormed out. 

Crap. This is not good. Father could be back any minute and Zane’s hand is still-

“ _ No! _ ” Zane whisper shouts, accidentally dropping the iron at the pain that shot through his arm on contact. Desperately biting his lip to keep quiet, Zane’s right hand trembles, clenched around the soldering iron as tightly as he can. “Ngh! Please-” Zane chokes out, jerking his hand away from the heat, staring at the plastic that has melted over the exposed wires in his fingers. It burns. Sparks of orange tingling and zipping up the wires of his arm. Artificial muscles jump and flinch in spasms of pain. Black and white static finding its home underneath his skin, hunching him over his arm protectively.

“It hurts… please, he-” Zane chokes down a scream, shoving his next finger back to the soldering iron. He groans into his lips, tears obscuring his vision. Squeaking screeches rip from his throat as the plastic melts over, the pain not dulling in his other closed fingers. “O-one… more,” he croaks, hands shaking so badly the soldering iron almost smacks his forearm instead of his pinky. 

Oil drip, drip, drips onto the floor. Zane’s toes curl in the puddle. It feels so much colder than his body heat. Why does his blood feel cold? Blood… but it’s not blood, is it.

Just oil. Stained red like blood. A perfect replica. It even tastes metallic on Zane’s tongue. Just like human blood. 

He stares in cold gripped fascination as the plastic casing bubbles under the intense heat. Pushing and mushing it over his fingers with teeth bared, tears freezing on his cheeks like glass. There’s a squawk of distress from his right, but Zane is rooted in place. Ice creeping up his legs, into his servos and locking his joints. The pain burns a bright orange cold, flowers bursting from under his skin. Resilient and unwavering. His left hand a mangled lump of plastic and wires. Bubbling flesh that ignites a rot in the wires leading down his arm. 

“Done… it’s done.” Zane drops the soldering iron back onto the desk and turns it off with a shaking hand. The fingers he has left creak from his tight grip. His left hand hangs limply at Zane’s side. Even without the growing coils of pain creeping upwards, he wouldn’t be able to use that arm much. An alert on his HUD comes back with a diagnostic report. It indicates that he accidentally fried some of the wires in charge of muscle movement. It’s no wonder his joints lay limp. 

Still shaking, Zane hastily surveys the mess of bl- oil he has made. He squeaks, bringing his head down to look at the crystallized oil splotch on the ground and covering his toes.

“I-ice?” It isn’t even below 60 degrees in this room. A hand shoots up to touch his cheek, but he quickly recoils it back as ice falls from his face where there once sat tears. Zane stumbles back, arms jerking to cover his chest. It’s cold. It’s so cold. “It’s coming… from  _ me- _ ”

“What are you doing in my workshop, Zane.”

The ice curls further up Zane’s calves, rooting him in place for father to see.

**> COMMENCING DATA RETRIEVAL . . .**

**> ENTRY No. 0168: You must be obedient to every command**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *rises from the ashes but slightly smaller*  
> FUCKC

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [You are P̷̦͔̚Ę̸̨̨͔̪̫̮͉͕̪̳̮͈̉͑̍̾̔͛̔̏̾͜ͅR̸̨̨̛̪̠̲͉̺̾̒̔͂͐̅͊͌͑̿́͑̂F̷̡̨̡̢̼̠͕̮͈̲͒̐̓͌͜͠͝E̶̢̧̛͙̫̜̗͈̒̾̅̃̇̆̎̈́̂̔̉̋͜ͅͅC̷̢̢̡̣̹̳̤̘̞̳̹̗̟̠̽̀̽̌̍͋Ṭ̶̫͖͚̣͉̼͊͗̓̏͒̑̄̏͠͝ (PODFIC)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27355717) by [WhaleKingdom (BadFeelin)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BadFeelin/pseuds/WhaleKingdom)




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